


A Tail Of Un-fur-tunate Events

by HouserOfStories



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Mortal, Bianca gets to be alive it’s what we all deserve, Cat Puns, Charlena (cameo), Explosions, Gen, Heist Music, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, Magic, Nico di Angelo is a Little Shit, Platonic Frazel in which Hazel won’t stop stealing Frank’s hoodies, RIP some plants, Reyna and Thalia stage a cat heist, So much chaos honestly, Witch!Nico, Witch!Persephone, cat!Nico, it almost works, occasionally the fourth wall is broken, or a catnapping, sentient kitchen appliances who can’t talk or move but have Opinions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouserOfStories/pseuds/HouserOfStories
Summary: Will Solace would like it recorded somewhere that while he’s very much a cat person, he doesn’t know a single thing about them. Especially ones that can do DIY, advocate self care, write college essays and, you know,talk.But when Nico Di Angelo strolls into his life on four paws, he has no choice but to roll with it. And when tuna sandwiches and strange movie nights turn into midnight spell casting and spontaneous explosions? Well, it wasn’t like he had much planned for the weekend anyway.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Hazel Levesque, Nico di Angelo & Persephone, Nico di Angelo & Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Nico di Angelo & Thalia Grace, Nico di Angelo & Will Solace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15
Collections: PJO/HOO Big Bang 2020





	A Tail Of Un-fur-tunate Events

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PJO/HOO Big Bang 2020, but originated from a ridiculous idea I came up with in the middle of the night. It’s chaotic, like me.
> 
> Thanks to my brilliant betas: [darlinglissa](https://www.darlinglissa.tumblr.com), [galwaygremlin](https://www.galwaygremlin.tumblr.com), [ some-dam-french-fries](https://www.some-dam-french-fries.tumblr.com) and [lukewasright](https://www.lukewasright.tumblr.com)! I couldn’t have done it without you, and you saved me from crashing and burning many, many times!
> 
> [lukewasright](https://www.lukewasright.tumblr.com) and [cosmic-pindrops](https://www.cosmic-pindrops.tumblr.com) made wonderful art which you can check out on their tumblrs (and will be linked at the end)!  
> 

“How...to...fix...a...microwave. Search,” Will mumbled to himself as he slowly typed his dilemma into YouTube. The offending appliance was sitting in front of him amidst the grass, because for some reason he thought it would be cleaner if he did it outside. Not that fixing microwaves made much mess, and even if it did, the amount of mess wouldn’t have changed. Only the amount of cleaning, because he was living life with the philosophy that if you can’t see dirt at first glance, it doesn’t exist.

He’d fished his aunt’s toolbox out of the shed, and was in the process of trying to undo the rusted clasps. Clicking his tongue when the video began to buffer, he laid his phone next to the microwave and went to search the shed (again) for something that he could use to open the box. Behind a damaged target and underneath an old cardboard box was a bent metal pipe that could probably be used as a crowbar. Why Artemis didn’t have an actual crowbar in her shed remained to be seen - she was that sort of person, after all.

His phone was still buffering when he knelt down, makeshift crowbar in hand, and refreshed it twice in frustration. The metal was smooth and cool in his grip. He positioned it so the flat end was under one of the clasps. Awkwardly placing a hand on the top of the box for balance, he began to take off the first clasp.

A low voice from behind startled him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the box.

“I might not be an expert in breaking into things, but that’s definitely not what you’re supposed to be doing, and...why is your microwave plugged into an extension lead...in the middle of your garden?” 

“I’m not breaking into anything. Clasps rusted, and since the internet won’t load I’ll just have to fix it by taking it apart and putting it back together again.” In Will’s defence, this seemed like the next best solution. A perfectly logical thing to do. 

The best solution was to buy a new microwave, of course. However, Artemis had made it clear that she wanted  _ this particular microwave _ fixed and that she would know if he replaced it. He tried to pretend that it was because they were both kind of broke, and not because she didn’t trust any of the people who worked at the IT store in town.

There was a groan, and if Will was looking he would’ve seen them roll their eyes. 

“You’re going to die if you do that. Unplug the goddamn microwave first, at least. Moron.” Sending a half hearted glare in their vague direction, he pulled the plug out rather forcefully and tossed it to the side. It landed next to the extension cord in a rather undignified heap. 

The microwave continued to sit silently before him. (Although if it could talk, it would have been excessively screaming for Will to  _ turn around, you stove-cooked lukewarm bagel! _ ) 

For now however, all the microwave could do was sit innocently and pretend like it wasn’t the source of all of his problems. In return, Will tried to pretend he didn’t want to throw it unceremoniously into an alley for the rats to make a home in. Will felt this fate was justified, but his aunt would kill him.

“So what do you suggest?” He asked, dropping the pipe and running a hand through his hair. It landed with a light thud, and rolled almost pathetically until it hit the side of the box.

Gertrude (the microwave had christened itself, in light of its newly discovered sentience) disapproved of the smirk that had crept onto their face. “First, destroy it. Smash it to pieces. You were about to do a marvellous job of that.” 

Will grimaced as he glanced over to the abandoned makeshift crowbar.

“Gee, thanks. What next?” 

“Remove the moving parts,” they instructed. 

Will clicked open the microwave door, and wrestled with the plate and spinny bit (Gertrude wanted to scold him for that - it was called a _turntable motor_ , thank you very much) before they came loose. The objects were set aside next to his phone, which was _still_ buffering. The Internet was really awful here.

“Open up the back door. You’ll need a screwdriver for that,” they continued, and Will heard them shift behind him. Swallowing nervously, he glanced back at the busted toolbox. Behind him, they sighed - purred? He was obviously imagining things.

“Wait here, I’ll get one. There’s something living in that thing, unless it’s already dead.” Shuddering in disgust, Will picked at the grass as his mysterious instructor went to fetch the tool. A few minutes later, it came flying past his head, and he ducked instinctively.

“What the hell?” Will exclaimed. 

The mysterious instructor snickered. “Oops. My bad,” they said, unbothered by their (frankly terrible) aim. Grumbling under his breath, Will hastily unscrewed the back door of the microwave. He lifted it up and placed it next to the other pieces.

Gertrude, again, would have protested adamantly against this with a few more choice insults, because she was  _ cold  _ and  _ who are you to take me apart, you heathen? _ It was a shame that she was only a microwave who did not have a voice. She would have made an excellent microwave rights activist.

“Door switches next. I can’t be bothered to get a resistor tester to check the fuse so if that’s the problem you can just burn it. There are three, and you need to push down the pin beside it and rotate the switch to take it out.” 

Out the switches went, after Will took five minutes fiddling with them. 

To Gertrude, it seemed as if he’d all but ignored the comment they’d made, which was simply  _ scandalous.  _ Was there no decency in the world? 

Will fished out a small plastic bag from the back pocket of his jeans, and emptied it next to the switches. “Aunt Artemis said that one of these was broken, and she got this replacement part for it.”

“Uh huh. Check which one is broken. Press the buttons and see if they make a clicky noise. If they don’t, the contact’s been disconnected.” 

After clicking all the buttons repeatedly (they made a cool noise, sue him) and finding which one failed ~~to~~ ~~satisfy his newfound need for cool button noises~~ to work correctly, he pried the offending switch open. 

“Now change the switch.” He did, and started putting everything back where it belonged.

“I’m surprised you didn’t mess this up. You don’t seem like the kind of person who does a lot of...this,” they teased. Will spun the spinny thing ( _ turntable motor _ , Gertrude wanted to say) and laughed.

“I want to help people, not microwaves. Sorry for not being able to communicate with them telepathically.”

_ Thank god for that,  _ Gertrude wished she could remark,  _ if I have to be handled by a half-baked couch potato like you again, I’ll find a way to throw myself to the rats _ .

Grabbing the toolbox with one hand and the discarded pipe with the other, Will stood up. He ignored the light grass stains on his jeans (he couldn’t really see them, anyway). “Thanks for the help. God, the Internet here is awful,” he said, finally turning to face whoever had been helping him. 

“What’s your name-” His question was cut off by a scream, and the sound of breaking glass. He realised the scream was his. The pipe was no longer in his hand. 

And there was a cat in front of him.

“Nico di Angelo,” the small cat answered, walking across the small wall separating Will’s garden from next door’s. His fur was completely black, and his dark brown eyes stared at Will’s mildly terrified expression. His tail brushed the side of the red brick wall as he turned to look at the gaping hole in the middle of the window. “Hera’s going to kill you when she sees that.” Will followed his gaze.

Oh.  _ Shit. _

“I— You— The window—” He stuttered out, eyes frantically flicking from the window, to Nico, to his empty hand then back again. The toolbox fell out of his other hand and landed on the grass, tools clanging together and making him wince. Nico rolled his eyes (Will wasn’t even sure that cats could do that) before giving him a rather unimpressed look.

“Yes, you broke the window. And  _ yes,  _ I’m a talking cat. Get over it already.”

Will nodded slowly as he walked backwards, opening and closing the gate without taking his eyes off what must be the product of one too many all-nighters, because that was the only way any of this could be possible. And if it somehow wasn’t a hallucination, he wasn’t about to ‘get over it’. 

So, as Hera’s door opened and a high-pitched shriek caused Nico’s fur to stand on end, Will did the only logical thing he could think of.

He bolted, because when someone’s faced with witchcraft and their worst nightmare, what else would they do?

***

The café he took refuge in was busy enough that he didn’t look sad and lonely if he sat alone, but apparently not busy enough that no one noticed the reappearance of Nico. Who could still talk, and was still a cat, as if the universe wanted to remind him that this was 100%  _ not  _ a hallucination. He appeared on the table top, almost knocking over one of the many small vases that were placed around the café. The purple irises received a glare that caused them to wilt slightly, their leaves almost beginning to tremble.

“It’s rude to run off in the middle of a conversation,” Nico began, stealing Will’s blueberry muffin and nibbling on it. He tried to reclaim it, but when his outstretched arm was met with a look that could raise the dead, he accepted his muffin’s fate. Besides, if Nico died because cats aren’t supposed to eat muffins, would it really be his fault? (It absolutely would’ve, but he didn’t need to know that at the moment.)

“It’s rude to steal muffins,” he retorted, but Nico only stared at him again, unimpressed before looking Will straight in the eye and slowly taking a bite out of it. Will opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out apart from an indignant squeak. He tried again.

“I’ll have you know, that it’s simply polite to respect other people and their belongings, especially food!  _ Especially  _ muffins! Don’t ignore me when I’m lecturing - I mean informing - you because that’s also rude! Manners are an essential part of a functioning society, as well as just...human  _ decency- _ ”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, don’t care.” Nico devoured most of the muffin in a couple of big bites (which seriously shouldn’t have been good for him) before smirking at Will’s horrified expression. Will looked between Nico and the crumbs as if he was making several important moral decisions about animal cruelty and the avenging of muffins, before making another offended squeak - a sound that now worried Nico. Will dissolved into indignant spluttering.

“That was  _ my  _ muffin, you scrappy cat!" He exclaimed, and crossed his arms like a five year old who'd just been refused a bag of sweets. Nico gave a non-committal hum before licking the excess jam off the side of the plate.

"Not anymore."

"You-"

"Oh, hey Will!" A familiar voice cut off what would have been an incredibly cutting remark. "I see you've met our little fur-end here. Isn't he cute?" 

Katie Gardener set down a couple of plates in front of two customers. Will’s eye was drawn to the bright green bob one of them wore. Katie then pulled up a chair opposite him. The light blue polo shirt of her uniform was smudged with flour, but she didn't seem to notice as she pulled a small bag of biscuits out of her pocket. 

Nico's attitude changed completely the moment she appeared - the condescending smirk disappeared, as did the look in his eyes that read,  _ I don't  _ think _ I'm better than you, I  _ know _ I'm better than you. _ Nico stopped throwing Will triumphant glances as he decimated what was left of his muffin. 

Apparently Will was the only one to experience what could have been the title of some random YouTube clickbait: I Talked To A Cat - And It Replied! (No One Else Knows!). 

Great.

"He's not supposed to be eating muffins, so I made these cat-friendly biscuits the other day! Aren't they clawsome?" Katie laughed at her own pun. She broke off pieces of biscuit that Nico pawed at curiously before abandoning the muffin entirely to munch on them. Will almost felt offended on behalf of the squished blueberry remains. 

Katie only giggled again and tucked part of her haphazard ponytail behind her ear. She returned the bag to her pocket, smiling slightly at - was that a pout? Could cats pout? Or was this just another Nico thing? 

"We're in the middle of a vote as to what we should name him. Top contenders are Cleo-cat-ra, Paw McCartney, Chairman Meow, Oedipuss, and Travis is trying to gain supporters for Luke Skywhisker." There was a fond smile on her face as she recounted the usual café antics, and Will didn't miss the look she gave the curly haired boy laughing by the coffee machine.

He saw Nico roll his eyes again at the excessive cat puns, and then tried not to stare as if he'd seen a ghost. Because Nico was now glowing the same shade of green as Katie’s previous customer’s hair.

But no one else had noticed. 

Kudos to Katie and her apparently magical biscuits, he supposed, and continued listening to her recount the latest prank the Stolls had pulled. It had something to do with feathers and a lot of hair dye…

A resounding crash cut her off as the glass vase went tumbling to the floor, the flowers choosing that moment to wilt completely. (Rest In Pieces, Silena and Charlie.) Nico froze mid stretch, before leaping back and scrabbling frantically against the window. Will ignored him again, and, as Katie rushed off to find something to clean up the mess, realised he never heard the end of the story. The customers around him had edged back, although not many took notice of the terrified cat destroying the window. The one with bright green hair (who Will vaguely recognised from a Pottery 101 class he’d taken once) was laughing, and the sound seemed to agitate Nico further. With another yowl, he almost sentenced another plant to an early death before Will leant across the table to catch it. This only seemed to encourage more laughter, and he looked back to realise he’d stuck his elbow in the pitiful remains of his muffin. Sighing, he sent a half hearted glare in their direction. Talking cats, Hera’s wrath, and now crumbs and blueberry jam on his favourite shirt - his day was going  _ great _ .

(What he didn’t realise, due to either his dedication to not looking at Nico or his futile attempts to clean his sleeve with a napkin, was that it was about to get a lot more...topsy turvy, so to speak.)

***

Persephone adjusted her flower crown in the window of  _ Leo and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters,  _ nodding to the woman behind the counter. Calypso nodded back, and continued counting the bills. She considered dropping in to buy a glass of lemonade (or two - no one made fresh lemonade like Calypso did), or perhaps picking up her usual order from the florist (one of her flowers was  _ torn,  _ and Nico’s latest ‘experiment’ hadn’t given her the chance to tend to her garden as much as she’d like to - kids these days,  _ honestly _ ). Instead of either of these things (and the long list of much more enjoyable ways that she could spend an afternoon), Persephone found herself staring at  _ Sugar And Spice,  _ a café that she’d heard did things with its croissants that bordered on magical. More specifically, the ball of neon green fur that was making awful scratches on the glass. Wrinkling her nose at the sight, she considered how long it would be possible to simply ignore the chaos. (Or Nico. Was it bad if she just ignored him for a while? The one parenting book she’d read didn’t cover animal transformations…)

Glancing at the café again, and wincing as something else toppled to the floor, she dropped a couple of pennies into a charity collection box and started walking. Inside the café she could hear the low buzz of casual chatter, serene, perfect and-

Right. Nico. Almost perfect, then. He hadn’t ceased his...mild freak out (that in her eyes, was  _ extremely  _ undignified) and her hand instinctively shot out to catch the latest thing he’d knocked over. To her annoyance, it was another plant, and dirt spilled out onto her dress. Pushing it back onto the sill with two fingers, she tried to brush the worst of it to the ground. When she glanced up again to glare at Nico (and wonder for the umpteenth time that day what she’d done to deserve this - so maybe she’d turned him into a dandelion, it was  _ one time and she  _ _ bribed _ _ apologised to him to make up for it) _ , someone reached out across the table and saved a tiny succulent (named Kayla as revenge from when she’d dyed all of Will’s socks bright neon colours, because he knew Katie would love it and his sister would hate it) from smashing to pieces over her shoes. Was this a café or a botanical garden? She wasn’t so sure anymore, with the amount of plant life adorning the windowsills, the tables, and pretty much anywhere where it wasn't a health code violation (and then a few more places where it was). He nodded in a way that clearly meant,  _ I’m just going to pretend that this is a totally casual and normal meeting between strangers, and that I’m not almost lying across a table with pieces of destroyed muffin on my sleeve and my trainer hanging from the ceiling fan. How are you on this wonderful day with no chaos in sight?  _ She huffed, and rolled her eyes in a way that meant,  _ I was fine before I found this green fur ball of destruction, thanks for asking. You’ve got dirt on your cheek, by the way.  _

As he rubbed the dirt off his face, he looked at the scratched glass. “I’m going to tell Katie to add Lucifurr to the list of cat names. It seems appropriate somehow.” 

_ Lucifurr…? Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Cat puns. I have the strange desire to throw someone off a building,  _ she thought vaguely, taking advantage of when Nico stopped momentarily to throw a look in his direction (and if she was right, it meant something along the lines of  _ don’t you fucking dare. _ Should she be having ‘words’ with Nico about that?) to pull him away from his spot of destruction and chaos. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She deadpanned, holding him up to meet her eyes.

“Don’t pick me up like that! I’m not a child!” He squirmed, trying to hit her with his tail. She raised an eyebrow, and he stilled.

“It was your fault you’re a cat, so I’m going to treat you like one.”

“I’m already eating cat food like some common pet,” Nico hissed, narrowing his eyes. She shifted her hold on him like she’d seen on YouTube (because she was of the firm belief that it held the answers to everything, except perhaps ‘how to deal with your child turning himself into a cat’) and smiled cheerily at a couple passing by her to leave. One of them noticed the way Nico was glaring daggers at her and began to laugh again.

"That's good, maybe you'll finally learn some manners like Percy back home,” she murmured back. She tried to ignore his constant squirming, and wiggled her fingers in the vague direction of the window as she saw a girl with a shoulder length brown ponytail and flour on her shirt walking towards them. If she hadn’t shifted her focus to lecturing Nico, she might have noticed Will’s double take, before he smiled at Katie and asked quietly for another muffin.

Nico spluttered (the YouTube videos did not say that cats could splutter, and its complete lack of information on talking cats and their behaviour was making her consider whether she should try out that shifty looking forum instead) and almost recoiled in indignation. “Percy is a  _ fish _ ,” he hissed (why was he insistent on hissing at her?), and glanced in the direction of the saviour of succulents and expensive shoes before burying his face in her shoulder. If she wasn’t so exasperated by his situation, it might have been rather cute.

“ _ Exactly! _ ”

She’d been inching towards the door, trying not to look like she was planning to throw him in a river (which, for the record, she  _ wasn’t _ ) when she realised that Goldilocks (she should probably learn his name…) was very pointedly not staring at them. And as anyone who’s ever interacted with people before knows, that sort of not-staring means that they’ve heard everything but are pretending that they didn’t. The most annoying type of staring, because everyone can see the clear thought of  _ oh god get me out of here  _ on their face. For him, it was in the form of a rather pinched expression and a dusting of pink across his cheeks. There was also the way that he was staring at a garbage can across the street as if he was trying to incinerate it with only the power of his mind, but she was trying to refer to the way most drama teachers assess their students - facial expressions. (And  _ no,  _ she wasn’t still salty that she’d failed Drama at school because, “No one wants an emotionless husk on stage, Penelope!” Her old teacher could take his awful feedback and inability to remember her name and shove them up his- nevermind.)

His face, when it actually went up with flames, almost made the whole fiasco worth it.

Persephone had to stifle a giggle as his eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing in his hair (which was a near identical shade to Rapunzel’s...dammit. Hazel had made her watch too many Disney movies. Was she ever going to learn his actual name anyway, or would she forever be using these nicknames?). As he tried to nonchalantly look around to check if anyone else had noticed, she thanked her lucky stars that the other customer had left. She didn’t know if she’d be able to keep her composure if they started laughing too. Nico looked up at her, and they exchanged bemused looks as Rapunzel kept looking at various people then back to the fire, his nonchalant expression (which wasn’t nonchalant in the slightest) giving away his inner monologue of, _ what the fuck did I just do!?  _ Sometimes the ability to read people like a book was the greatest blessing in the world.

Before he could accept the fact that he now had magical powers that consisted of setting trash on fire, yelling from the pavement next to the sight caught his attention. “Gina! What did you  _ do _ !?” Came the shrill shriek, and was followed by a woman shoving a can of hairspray and a lighter into the arms of a random child that appeared shortly after it went up in flames. 

“It’s not my fault the kid’s deranged!” Said kid was shaking the can experimentally, ignoring the two adults screaming at each other.

“Stop harassing random children and blaming them!”

She snorted, and took out her phone to take a picture of the fire. “I didn’t harass him - I barely touched him.” The kid (who for any outsiders’s interest, was named Harley) forced the canister back into her hand after he got bored, dropped the lighter and began to walk away. He protested at Gina ruffling his hair, before she let him ago with a cheery wave.

“Bye little cousin!” A pause, and the man (who again, for all intents and purposes, was named Jake and really should be used to this by now) opened his mouth before closing it abruptly and staring at her in confusion.

“Wait Gina what-”

Persephone began to walk off, leaving him to take a bite out of his muffin, order a jelly doughnut (because he really did think he had cool powers for the whole of five seconds) and open up  _ Word Crush _ on his phone. Nico began to squirm again in her arms, getting his front legs free and wiggling his back ones profusely. “I have that nice tuna at home,” she whispered, and he froze.

“I hate you.”

Laughing softly, she scratched behind his ears. “You love tuna more though.” She got an unintelligible stream of grumbling that she made a face at, before eventually lapsing into a comfortable silence. Rolling her eyes fondly, she made a mental note to stock up on tuna.

After all, she really wasn’t above bribery.

***

In hindsight, it probably was his fault. If Kayla had been there when he first realised, she’d have sympathetically patted him on the back and informed him that he had just been  _ ‘too shocked to give a shit’,  _ so therefore Will couldn’t be blamed. It would be exceptionally illogical. Kayla had a rather warped sense of logic, but it did make him feel better about himself. And he’d gotten a new high score on  _ Word Crush  _ so at least something good came out of his procrastination (and then two hours of basically being dead to the world - that game did strange things to a person). He came to the realisation in a long string of curses before he also noticed Katie staring at him wide eyed and holding her hands over one of her plants. 

“Not in front of the children!” she scolded, and he smiled sheepishly in return.

“Sorry,” he said, and handed her a fiver. “Keep the change. I’ve really got to go.” As he took off down the street at a very respectable power walk, he caught Katie walking over to the register. She was probably mumbling about how  _ most people pay at the counter, Will!  _ or something similar. In his defence, it was just so much more  _ convenient  _ to pay her at the table as he left. Logical. Kayla would be proud.

Ignoring the voice in the back of his head chiding him for leaving this to the last minute, he unlocked the door and grabbed his laptop. The word document that greeted him after he frantically pressed the power button multiple times (and then wondered why it kept shutting down before he could log in) wasn’t as empty as he feared.

_ Because I know I’m going to leave this until the last minute, and like hell I’m writing anything now, I’m going to give Future Will some advice. Not that I know how many days are left - you’re probably doing this day before because...idiot. Write like the fucking wind, moron. _

Wow. Past Will (did he really write this at 5am last week?) was a jerk.

Groaning, he considered just throwing it all out the window - the literal window, metaphorical ones were pointless - and accepting his inevitable (probably metaphorical, maybe a little literal) death. Then the annoying voice in the back of his head spoke up again, spewing something about how education was important and he shouldn’t throw it all away because he didn’t want to write one essay. Stupid annoying voices, always being right. Maybe he  _ liked  _ procrastination and- yeah, maybe he should just start writing.

He would have completely ignored his basic human need for food if, well, it wasn’t a basic human need.  _ One sandwich,  _ he told himself,  _ one sandwich and then I can finish the stupid thing.  _ One sandwich then turned into one sandwich, a trip into the garden to retrieve the microwave (and Gertrude wanted to yell at him for abandoning her - what if it had  _ rained?  _ Or if there was  _ lightning?  _ Or  _ more magic cats? _ \- and intended to add it to her bucket list for when she gained the ability to talk), and finally delving into Artemis’ cupboards to try and find a cloth because  _ damn, was he always this messy when he made sandwiches? _

Now holding a plate in one hand and eating a sandwich with the other, he pushed the door open and slowly wandered back to his laptop. His laptop which now had a rather familiar cat on it, who didn’t seem like he felt like moving anytime soon. Raising an eyebrow, he took another bite of his food and sat down, setting down his plate. “Get off my computer,” he said, trying to pull it out from underneath the sleeping cat.

Nico opened one eye and stretched. Apparently the universe had decided to be kind (or it was planning to do something else even more dastardly), as his laptop didn’t seem to be in any danger of being scratched. “Hmmm?” He shifted, and for a moment Will thought he was going to walk off, before settling down again. “No.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Will lightly shook the computer again. “Please.”

“Nope.”  _ Stupid, stubborn, muffin-stealing cat _ , Will thought irritably.

“I have to finish this.”  _ Never mind that it should have been finished already, procrastination is king as always. _

Nico sniffed the edge of his half-eaten sandwich, and decided that it wasn’t worth his time. (Will was definitely  _ not  _ offended by this, because the opinion of people - of cats - who broke into his house and sat on his computer meant nothing to him.) “Big deal. You snooze, you lose,” he drawled, sprawling across the metal surface as if to prove his point. No. He was not going to reason with a cat. Especially Nico.

“I went to get a sandwich.”  _ Dammit, Solace! You just decided you weren’t going to try to reason with him! Right, you reason and get him off the computer, then you’re done.  _ Will did his best to ignore the very insistent voice in his head, and settled for glaring half heartedly at Nico.

Nico made a sound that reminded him of... _ tutting?,  _ before he fixed him with another unimpressed stare. “Meaning you need to take a break.” He lightly hit the top of the laptop with his tail. “How long have you been working on this?”

“A few hours? Does it matter?”

“Yeah, take a break, Sunshine. Watch a movie. Drink some water.”  _ Wow,  _ he thought to himself,  _ I have to be reminded by a literal cat burglar to drink water. Is this a new low?  _ Taking another bite out of his sandwich, he chose to ignore Nico miming throwing up after he licked a single crumb that had fallen onto the table.

“But it’s due in three days!” He protested weakly. Nico scoffed before replying.

“Three days, not three minutes,” he stated matter of factly, and Will struggled to come up with an appropriate argument for that. He moved his arms towards his computer as if he was going to try and yank it out from underneath him, but Nico just raised an eyebrow. “I’ll hiss at you,” he warned coolly. 

Will paused. “What?”

Apparently Nico took this as a challenge, and began to display the worst hiss he’d heard in...well, ever. Seriously, he’d heard  _ toddlers  _ hiss with more conviction, and some of them couldn’t even pronounce the letter  _ s _ yet.

“Hiss. Hiss,” he continued, in the most emotionless and monotonous voice that it made Will wince. Before his ears started bleeding, he grabbed the sides of the laptop and tried to whisk it off the table, catching Nico by surprise. The resulting cat-like hiss (which was somehow even more disturbing than whatever he was trying before) made him shriek and drop the computer on the table with a loud clatter.

“Hi-HisssSSSSssssSSss!”

“ _ What the hell!?”  _ He screeched, cursing several gods and a few other non deities.

Nico simply swept more crumbs off the table with his tail and smirked, like the infuriating cat he was. “Self. Care. Bitch.”

Will took a visible step back, giving Nico a look that meant,  _ who are you calling bitch?  _ When his only response was the feline equivalent of a shrug and a paw repeatedly hitting the side of the laptop, he had to accept that he wasn’t going to get anymore work done tonight. With the feeling that somewhere, somehow, an all-knowing immortal deity was laughing at him, he took the first DVD from a precariously positioned pile next to the TV and fiddled with the DVD player until it accepted the disk. As the main menu page of  _ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix  _ came up on the screen, there was the unmistakable sound of a self entitled cat flopping onto a sofa like he owned the place. Which, for the record,  _ he most certainly did not. _

Sighing, and wondering how his life had taken such an undeniably weird turn in the span of a few hours, Will noticed Nico’s not-so-subtle glancing towards the kitchen. “I guess this is happening. Do cats eat sandwiches?” There was a moment where Nico froze, before his face contorted into one of absolute disgust.

“Wow. I’m offended,” Will said in response, trying to defend his sandwich.

Nico snorted (and Will made a mental note to himself that  _ yes, magic cats can snort).  _ “You only get to be offended once you’ve made better sandwiches.” He paused for a moment. “Probably with tuna, I’ve got a taste for it now.”

“What?”

Nico rolled his eyes again, possibly biting back many remarks about his opinion of Will’s intelligence. “Tuna. You know, the fish,” he explained, in a tone that meant he probably wanted to tack  _ you idiot  _ onto the end but was feeling nice.

“I know what tuna is,” he replied defensively.

**“** Then get working, sunny boy.”

“What happened to self care?” 

“This  _ is _ self care. Self-and-others care.”

“Wow. Can you even eat sandwiches?” Will thought of googling it, but then remembered the state of the WiFi and decided it was safer to just ask.

“ _ Watch me _ ,” he hissed, and it reminded Will of Kayla every time he mentioned that doing something dangerous (including but not limited to: ceiling parkour, a three legged death race that ended in many hospital visits, a very intense 5 day movie marathon and instead of donating old clothes,  _ burning them with chemicals stolen from a high school science lab -  _ that one in particular had caused Will to mourn the loss of standardised health and safety guidelines collectively being followed by everyone) might not be a good idea.

“What if I told you I didn’t have any tuna?” He asked. Shuddering at the destruction that could occur, he looked through the fridge a little faster.

Nico laughed lowly, as if the mere idea was ridiculous. “I’ve searched your cupboards and you have loads. Don’t lie to me. Tuna. Now. Chop chop, Sunshine.”

Pulling out a can, “Why am I listening to a cat?” He muttered, taking a moment to rest his head against the door of a cupboard and reevaluate his purpose in life.

“Because I’m better than you,” Nico answered for him, interrupting what could have been a very revealing evaluation.

“Rude.”

“I will eat you.”

Flopping down on the sofa as he placed Nico’s sandwich in front of them, Will pressed play and the movie started. “So, since you know so much about it, what do you do for self care?”

“Disney karaoke nights. Last time was Lion King,” he answered, eyes transfixed on the screen as he began to nibble at the sandwich in front of him.

“Were you Simba?” Will asked, amused.

He tore his gaze away from the screen so Will could see him rolling his eyes. “Pfft, as if. Scar. I usually play the villains,” he declared proudly.

“Maybe it’s because you are one.”

Nico fixed him with a glare so intense it could raise several armies and even a few dinosaurs from the dead*, and it took Will five minutes to compose himself. This was apparently hilarious to Nico. He disagreed.

Eventually, he fell asleep halfway through the second movie ( _ Lion King,  _ which he would have made a joke about but wanted to keep his soul intact, so he settled for an amused look towards Nico’s dark form on the sofa). When Nico lightly bumped his head against his leg, he ran a gentle hand down the back of the cat’s spine and smiled at the soft purr that came in response. Morning would come, and he’d wake up with a blanket messily draped over him and the TV switched off (albeit with a few new scratches around the power button that weren’t there before). He’d stand up, not recognising the blanket but accepting that he’d probably bought in a thrift store and forgotten about it (because dancing skeletons? Really?). 

Thanking any gods listening that he didn’t stand up and have a crick in his neck, even though he definitely should have, he’d place the two empty plates into the dishwasher. His essay would be opened, and the conclusion (which he had been silently dreading completing) would be finished, with a few typos that could be easily fixed. Of course, Will wasn’t an oracle or a seer, so he didn’t know about any of this, and continued to sleep while a black cat stared at the window until it opened and he could slip out into the night.

_ *[The author interrupts your daily dosage of fan fiction to warn you that (in a completely unrelated turn of events) a zombie has appeared in McDonalds, and could someone please remove it? The author would also like to inform you that this is one way correlation is not equal to causation. For the love of God memorise the example, because it will be on your test tomorrow- shit. The zombie got out. I repeat, the zombie is no longer in McDonalds. Please stay inside for your own safety. No one must mention that you should already be staying inside, because the fic isn’t allowed to be dated. Beeeeeeeep.] _

  
  


***

Reyna was pissed, and by extension, Thalia was too. Not enough to break anything (which was lucky, because they’d just replaced most of their windows and that was  _ expensive _ ) but enough to do something drastic. The last time this had happened, it was high school, and they’d ended up starting a school-wide water fight that meant you couldn’t go anywhere for two weeks without getting soaked. To this day, no one can remember the exact cause of the chaos. Which, in Thalia’s opinion, was exactly how it should be.

The phone in front of them, if it had been blessed with free movement and sentience, would’ve been shaking. On the screen was the incriminating evidence of Reyna’s messages with Nico.

_ Tuesday 14:09 _

**_QueenRARA_ ** _ : WE ADOPTED A DOG. _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _ TheCutestPuffball.jpg _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _ We named him Waffle! _

_ Thursday 19:27 _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _ Did he kill you with his cuteness? _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _ Because you responded faster than this when we showed you Nina. _

_ Sunday 03:58 _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _ @ _ **_TheGhostKing_ ** _ I CAN TELL YOU’RE IGNORING US I KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ON THIS WEEK WHYYYYYYYYYY SHOW WAFFLE SOME APPRECIATION  _ 😡😡😡👿👿

_ Sunday 10:30 _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _...forget that, phone got stolen by a certain someone, same sentiment. _

_ Tuesday 18:07 _

**_QueenRARA:_ ** _ YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF. _

Reyna looked incredulously at Waffle, who was sleeping on Thalia’s lap. “How can he do this to us?” She groaned, dramatically sprawling across the table. “How, Thals?” 

Thalia made a high pitched sound that was similar to the sound someone makes when they’ve given up on pretty much anything good happening in life, and joined her in dramatically draping herself over the furniture.

“How can someone be faced with a dog who’s cuteness levels are on  _ another plane of existence  _ and  _ ignore  _ it? Not even an  _ emoji.  _ How hard is it for someone to send an emoji nowadays? We’re all glued to our phones!” 

(Reginald, the sentient whisk watching this rather impressive display of theatrics, was suddenly inspired to write another chapter of his novel, a romance about a pirate who kidnaps oblivious couples in an attempt to get them to realise their true feelings.)

They continued cursing Nico’s name to hell and heaven before Reyna suddenly stood up. “That’s  _ it!”  _ she yelled, quieting her voice when Waffle woke up with a bark. She stormed off, and Thalia let the labradoodle run off to his food bowl before he dragged her with him. Banging and crashing could be heard from down the hall, and eventually she returned with a large roll of blue paper. Thalia gasped quietly, reverently helping her unroll it.

“The Legendary Blueprint Paper?” Reyna nodded. “I’ll go get The Legendary Blueprint Stationery.” She ran off to retrieve their set of white pencils and pens covered in excess blueprint paper (only to be used in _extreme_ _circumstances,_ such as this). With the paper rolled out on the table in front of them, held down by some 1€ paperweights they’d found in Italy, and their assortment of equipment in a funky pencil pot they picked up in Greece, they exchanged a look.

“Time to plan a heist?”

“Time to plan a heist.”

It went exactly to plan, which meant by normal standards, it crashed and burned the moment Reyna rolled into the kitchen via the window in her Legendary Heist Outfit (a purple t-shirt from her old summer camp and the darkest pair of leggings she owned). Thalia followed in a Death to Barbie t-shirt and ripped jeans (in which style won out over total practicality) and immediately noticed the sunflower cookie jar. Opening it as stealthily as a person could when one leg was in the sink, the other still in the window and the rest of their body was basically hanging off the counter, her eyes lit up when she realised the contents. “It’s that expensive cookie brand we love!” 

Reyna paused, running through their carefully sketched out plan in her mind. “It wouldn’t be a heist without getting extra cargo,” she said, as if they were talking about priceless artefacts (although in this case, they were worth the same to them). After scoffing a few and stuffing more in their pockets, they moved on through the house. It might have been almost a crime, if Persephone hadn’t had the feeling they were going to drop by soon enough and stocked up. Of course, the real reason that Nico hadn’t replied was his unfortunate situation which didn’t pair well with touchscreens. (He’d explained this in detail to Hazel with the repeated message of,  _ my phone screen is cracked enough as it is without me literally clawing it  _ and how  _ keyboards are the only thing I can use and it really is that sad _ ).

After pulling out an iPod that could have been constructed sometime before the dinosaurs ( _ the government can’t track us like this, Reyna),  _ Thalia started blasting the Mission Impossible theme tune (something they’d both agreed on  _ because heist music.)  _ However, when they entered the living room most people would describe it as  _ shit hitting the fan. _

It started with the sofa.

“Oh- oh  _ shit!” _ Reyna hurriedly -  _ strategically  _ \- placed a black pillow over the large rip in the sofa (and  _ no, she doesn’t want to know how it happened).  _ She glared half heartedly at Thalia as she stifled a laugh.

Thalia looked at the shattered pieces on the floor in front of her in horror. “Oh my god that could be worth  _ millions,  _ we’re  _ criminals,”  _ she whispered, and Reyna facepalmed in response before informing her that they had to move unless she wanted the plan busted before it had even begun. Although in fact, the vase had been bought by Hazel a week before in a charity store and was, as far as she knew at the time, not a priceless artefact that should be in a museum. Nevertheless, to the unknowing eye the bronze and pale red clay shards could have been anything.

As she misjudged the position of the table in the dark, Thalia was prepared to feel the sharp burst of pain going through her skull before a pair of arms looped around her waist. She half expected classical music to start playing from the iPod. Reyna smirked from above her, her dark eyes glinting mischievously, and Thalia had the feeling that she was doing a spot-on impression of the tomatoes in the kitchen behind them. “Aw, you’re blushing,” Reyna teased.

“Am  _ not,” _ she insisted, pulling herself up and planting a kiss on Reyna’s nose. “There, now we match,” she declared as Reyna’s cheeks darkened too.

When they carefully pushed open Nico’s door (identifiable due to the mythomagic stickers on the bottom of the door that had stuck on stubbornly for years), ignoring the loud, ominous creak it made, their first thought was that someone had gotten there before them. The room was cloaked in shadows, but someone had left the window open. A chink of moonlight illuminated a lump on the bed, half-hidden underneath a black blanket with some sort of flowery skull design. Thalia gave the posters on the wall an approving glance before nodding towards the presumably sleeping bundle on the bed. It twitched slightly as a light breeze came through the open window. An expandable shopping bag was opened, the neon yellow lightning bolts covering it a stark contrast to the rest of the room. Taking a handle each, they crept forward (the quietest thing either of them had done all night) before scooping their target into the bag and loosely tied the top shut. Immediately the contents began to yowl and scratch, hissing profanities from inside its canvas prison. “Is Nico a cat now? Cat heist?” Thalia questioned, only mildly surprised.

“Nico is a cat now. Cat heist,” Reyna confirmed, and started walking towards the door after she quickly adapted some of the finer details of their plan. Presumably it would be easier transporting a cat-

The hall light was switched on.

Hazel stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark red hoodie that almost came down to her knees (and was probably swiped from Frank). Her eyes momentarily flicked to the bag, but she was either too tired or not bothered enough to care. “Oh hey guys,” she said, stifling a yawn, “what did he do this time?”

“Hello, Hazel. Ignore us,” began Reyna as she stared down at their captive as if he had personally offended her (which he had).

“Like he ignored the  _ cutest puffball in the world,” _ continued Thalia, and they both nodded soberly as they remembered the crime that had been committed.

Before they could continue to recount the pain that had been caused by his negligence, Hazel interrupted them. “Mm, okay. See you round.” She walked off in the direction of her own room, and a disgruntled sound came from the bag that sounded something like  _ betrayal _ as the lights were flicked off, plunging them into darkness. They took off, sprinting down the stairs while Nico resumed his loud and creative swearing. Once they’d escaped the house and were standing in the middle of the street, their  ~~ incessant yelling that probably woke up half the street ~~ _ almost silent whispers  _ started up again.

“We’ve got him, run bitch!” Reyna yelled, and Thalia cackled in response as they hurtled up towards their getaway vehicle - a well loved motorcycle that had been chosen because, in Thalia’s own words,  _ aesthetic, duh. _

“We were so  _ stealthy!” _

“In and out like a gust of wind,” she declared, bopping her head along to the music still coming from Thalia’s back pocket. Apparently Nico didn’t appreciate classic heist music, as he continued to make disgruntled yelps and spew curses that would have made Persephone give him a Look (practiced in the mirror to get it to perfection). “We should do this more often.”

“Totally.” Before they could make their daring escape, one that could only be rivalled by pretty much every movie ever, a door opened. As a person walked out with their shoulders slumped in a way that meant they’d definitely rather be sleeping than dealing with this bullshit, another muffled sound came from the bag that sounded vaguely like  _ Will, that fucker,  _ but they couldn’t be sure. With his navy sweatpants and a green shirt with a yellow t-shirt underneath that looked vaguely like the sun had thrown up over him, he didn’t look especially intimidating. But they’d learnt long ago never to judge a book by its cover (or a man by his shirt), and Thalia saw Reyna suppress a shudder at the memory. Furthermore, he was brandishing a dangerous weapon, and those who faced danger with a lamp commonly found on bedside tables were not to be messed with (although the expression on his face looked like he was asking himself some important questions, like  _ it’s too late to hide the Hello Kitty logo, isn’t it?). _

“What the everloving fuck are you  _ doing? _ ” He asked, with all the graces of someone who’d been woken up by two absolute disasters screaming their plans at the top of their voices while they ran with a bag full of one disgruntled cat and wasn’t too pleased about it. Naturally, the only thing to do when faced with such an opponent was to swear up a storm.

“ _ Shit,  _ we’ve been rumbled,  _ shit, shit- _ “ began Reyna, making drastic changes to their plan for when they had to do this again. Possibly retreating through the window? Messing with the locks on everyone’s door?  _ Why didn’t they plan for these anomalies? _

“ _ I don’t want to go to jail!”  _ Thalia screeched quietly, cutting off her train of thought (that really was going nowhere). Mission Impossible still blared from her pocket, the volume somehow lowered to an almost respectable volume level.

The bag shifted again, as if the cat inside was well and truly done with all this. “My hero,” he mumbled, the words barely distinguishable through the thick fabric and over the music. Seemingly Reyna heard, because she snorted and the bag slipped out of her hand. Thankfully she hadn’t been holding it too high, and Nico strolled out of the fabric as smoothly as if he'd hopped off an armchair. He smirked at Reyna’s incredulous exclamations and Thalia’s blank stares, before crawling up Will’s trouser leg to jump into his arms with as much flourish as he could manage. Making a split second decision, he tugged on his shirt sleeve and licked Will’s cheek, as if he was a damsel in distress being rescued by a prince.

He sighed, adjusted his hold on Nico so he could carry him and still wave the lamp around if he needed to, and re evaluated his life choices. “Why?” He deadpanned, awkwardly shrugging his shoulder in a futile attempt to wipe his cheek.

“This is a Disney movie now,” said Nico, as if it explained everything that had happened in the last forty eight hours (it didn’t, but he might believe it if someone started singing). Instead, he glared at Nico with all the intensity someone who just wanted to  _ sleep _ for once in their life held in their gaze.

“Nico di  _ fucking _ Angelo, how dare you,” he said slowly, as if he wanted to say every syllable somewhere that wasn’t the middle of the street at 2am.

“Can’t hear you, I have dramatically fainted from all the stress of being kidnapped,” he declared, and went limp in Will’s arms. The pause that followed was filled with unadulterated loathing caused by lack of sleep and the embodiment of all your current problems being over dramatic in your arms.

“You were in a bag for all of two minutes.”

Nico gasped, with an amount of flair that would have impressed any drama teacher. “I could have  _ died. _ Shut up and be a handsome prince would you?”

“You think I’m handsome?” Will asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Don’t look into it, I’m clearly delirious from shock.”

Before Will could tease him anymore, there was a thud that was shortly followed by the sound of shattering glass, something that was familiar to all of them. The smashed remains of a rather respectable hydrangea were now scattered over one of those expensive carpets that look like a cat decided to vomit over it. Which is to say,  _ they look absolutely wonderful and their owners do not intimidate omniscient authors in any way, shape, or form. _ Half of the thrower’s tirade was lost in between general tuning out and the small amount of adrenaline that came with  _ did I just get a flower pot thrown at me? _ “-loitering at this time of night? You’re a disgrace to society!”

“You hear that, Reyna? We’re a  _ disgrace.” _ Thalia whispered in mock horror. 

Reyna reached forward and turned the music off, ignoring Thalia’s protests. “No way. Time for a tactical retreat.” 

How anyone didn’t notice the two riding away remains a mystery, but it was by far the most stealthy part of their plan. And as any good heistmaster knows, the final execution is everything (and what better way to retreat than disappearing into the night?).

“ _Which one of you bitches_ _did that!”_ A light flickered on in the room, showing the extent of the damage done to the window. There was a moment of silence, before the troops (a ragtag improv group of alley cats) marched out onto the battlefield (the street, including several trees that were regretting their life choices) and commenced fire (horrific yowling that was actually a rewritten performance of Romeo and Juliet). Will looked at the screaming match that was slowly but surely involving the whole street, to the improv cat group (he took theatre as a high school extracurricular once, and he could recognise improv when he saw it) and then back to the spot where Reyna and Thalia should have been.

“That’s what you get for calling the cops on Koda!” Hera screeched.

“He was vandalizing!” roared Demeter in response.

“He’s a  _ dog.” _

“That  _ dog  _ destroyed my roses. My  _ sixteen time award winning roses!”  _ And if this was the only way she could avenge them, so be it.

“Well you can take your roses and-“

Tactical retreat indeed.

***

Persephone has decided long ago that questioning the majority of the situations Nico got himself into was pointless, and for the sake of her remaining sanity, to act like she didn’t care enough to ask or reprimand. But she had to draw a line somewhere - and somewhere was crawling into the house through the window with Goldilocks trailing behind and grumbling obscenities. The latest screaming match between Hera and literally everyone else who’d ever laid eyes on her wasn’t new. People entering the house through the windows wasn’t particularly uncommon either. The Hello Kitty lampshade was, however, as well as the amount of friendly teasing. Interesting. Could that mean… “Nico, do you have friends now? Or do I need to be concerned about Rapunzel?” 

Her question instigated a chorus of indignant outbursts.

“ _ Rapunzel-“ _

“ _ I have friends-“ _

She smiled as if saying,  _ if you say so,  _ and closed the window behind them. “Now is there a reason for you two falling through the window like a trashy circus act?” 

“I was kidnapped, it's not like I had a key. Or opposable thumbs,” Nico grumbled, hopping onto the sofa and knocking off a pillow. He experimentally prodded at the springs before swiping at the now non existent rip. “This is Will. His idea of fighting off intruders is waving a lampshade at them. Very intimidating.”

Will ignored the jab with practised ease. Clearly they’d been acquainted before this...incident. “I can’t pick locks,” he said, as if it was an acceptable excuse for that - quite frankly _ embarrassing  _ \- entrance.

She narrowed her eyes judgmentally. “Picking locks is a fundamental skill, learn.” Tutorials on lock picking were all over the internet, unlike her fruitless searches on parenting. And on that subject…

She raised an eyebrow at Nico in a silent question, who immediately froze in the middle of stretching. 

“No. Stop. Don’t you dare,” Nico warned. Persephone said nothing, only smirking slightly. “ _ Please _ ,” he hissed, trying not to pique WIll’s curiosity (which had most definitely been piqued, and he was watching the exchange with a bemused expression.

He leaned forward conspiratorially, a spark in his eyes that showed he wanted some light hearted revenge for being dragged out of bed. “Something to share?” he asked Nico, who groaned in response.

“Why does the universe hate me?” he said to no one in particular. Persephone decided to answer him anyway.

“Because you keep doing silly things and it’s trying to teach you a lesson, like when you got yourself into this mess.”

“It wasn’t my fault-” he began to whine, before Persephone stopped him with a Look (and she felt like she’d almost perfected it this time). “ _ Fine,  _ maybe it was.”

“Going to tell me?”

“Only if it’ll make you shut up.”

***

The digital clock next to Nico’s bed blinked harshly at him, the large red numbers telling him that it was ridiculously early to be up.  _ 6:12.  _ Outside, the first slivers of light were crawling up over the horizon, like they were desperate to flip off the moon and greet the people who were up at this absurd time. His spell book was underneath several others, including  _ The Iliad  _ (whether or not this copy was stolen from high school was not important) and  _ Catcher In The Rye  _ (checked out of the library solely for the conspiracies), and if he wanted to remove it he would be entering himself into an impossible game of Jenga. The mixing bowl he was using in place of his cauldron, which may or may not have been lost two days before, kept threatening to tip over. Purple liquid sloshed around dangerously, as if he needed any more red flags.

A tiny wooden cat sat before him, the postcard that had been tied around its neck with ribbon lying next to it. A windmill with cartoon googly eyes spun in the middle of a field full of tulips, with a tiny Netherlands flag in the corner.

_ Hey Nico! Hope you haven’t been turned into a plant...again. The girls and I are having a blast here! Try not to get up to too much trouble while I’m gone. I’ll write you a proper letter soon - training’s made me desperate to sleep for a week and then some. Miss you! _

_ \- Bianca  _

There was a messily drawn smiley face next to her spidery handwriting, and an inky thumbprint from when she’d posted it in a hurry. He could imagine her running down to a postbox, her usual green hat askew and a jacket haphazardly thrown around her shoulders before she had her usual training.

The spell was simple. He’d done it before and nothing had blown up, at least. The cat would walk around, possibly making general cat noises, and it would be something cool to show Bianca when she got home. And his potion had started to curdle, which was most definitely a good thing (he knew what he was talking about, Persephone made him study every time she heard that he’d done something  _ irresponsible  _ or  _ life threatening) _ . “ _ Anima felem, fi felem, anima,”  _ he chanted, throwing in a few fancy hand gestures that although made little difference to the spell, caused lilac sparks to fly out of the bowl which in his opinion,  _ looked seriously cool.  _ Continuing to chant the incantation, Nico stood up, reaching for the spice pot that was labelled  _ cinnamon  _ but was actually belladonna berries enchanted by professionals  _ because he did not want to die today, thank you very much _ . The pot had been shoved onto a high shelf (and who’s dumb idea was it to put it  _ there? _ ), and as his fingers wrapped around it, there was a resounding crash as the bowl toppled over, spilling sparking mixture over his feet. Scrambling to pick up the statue and postcard before they got covered, he slipped and put both hands in the potion (which was  _ sticky _ ,  _ why was it sticky- _ ).

Poof.

_ [The author is elbowing her way in to say that yes, there really was a  _ poof  _ sound and it wasn’t loud or impactful enough to qualify for an exclamation mark.] _

Everything was suddenly ten times bigger. The remains of the purple concoction smelt  _ disgusting.  _ Oh, and he had paws.

Paws. Oh. This was what Bianca meant by  _ trouble,  _ wasn’t it?

Naturally, he started screaming (Rule Two Hundred And Six in the  _ Official American Spellbook  _ started that when you spectacularly fucked up, you should start screaming. Or at least something along those lines). Whether that screaming was at an appropriate time for other people was not covered, and someone should probably make a note of that. What was he supposed to rely on otherwise,  _ common sense? _

Persephone started shouting in response first. The sort of exasperated yelling that was probably paired with a whispered discussion with his father about who had to get up first. ”Nico, you’re not allowed to do magic before 9am!” Her voice travelled down the hall, and was followed by her quick footsteps. “ _ Nic-  _ oh.” She trailed off as his door swung open, and her eyebrows raised a fraction as she took in his predicament. 

“It wasn’t me,” he blurted out, well aware of the incriminating evidence surrounding him.

Apparently Persephone didn’t believe his truly exceptional lies either, as she crossed her arms and gave him one of her Looks (he swore he’d seen her practising them in the mirror once…). “Of course, it was the resident ghost, right?” There was the obvious edge of  _ I don’t buy your bullshit  _ in her tone. Still, he had committed to his strategy of denying everything.

“Yup.”

“Actually, that’s kind of plausible-“ Hazel began, her head appearing round the side of the door. 

“Hazel, no,” Persephone interrupted, and they shared a glance that may have been Persephone expressing her... _ distaste,  _ for things like this. 

Her dark curls fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head, thinking. “He does make an adorable cat though,” she said, a smile creeping onto her face.

"I am not adorable. Fix it,” Nico demanded, hopping onto his desk in an effort to be taller. His tail had started twitching nervously, which was slowly starting to annoy him.

Hazel’s dark brown eyes had a mischievous look to them, the hints of gold around her pupil disappearing and reappearing in the light. Her smile had the decided air of someone who’d opened the door to opportunity before it had a chance to knock. "Hmm, Grumpy Cat, it would do you better to be nicer to me,” she teased. Clearly she had no grudges about being woken up and was simply ecstatic about the golden opportunity handed to her.

"We can't. You're stuck like that indefinitely,” came Hades’ deadpan interjection, as he appeared behind Persephone in his typical ‘Probably The God Of The Dead In Another Life’ fashion.

This only succeeded in irking Nico further. “No, I am  _ not, I will not stand for this!” _

"Actually, it says here you are...did you rip out these pages?" Persephone held in one hand his spell book, somehow retrieved from The Leaning Tower Of Books, and was tracing the line where it was clear that there were pages missing.

Nico had a vivid flashback to when he had to practise for his and Hazel’s paper aeroplane competition. He thought he’d picked an unimportant book that no one would miss. Clearly, he was wrong, Hazel had evidently picked up on this, and was doing her best to not burst out laughing. However, her shoulders were shaking with mirth and he’d be surprised if she lasted. “No?”

"You also destroyed the page where it tells you how to reverse it. Congrats,” Persephone continued, picking at the ripped shreds of paper still binded to the book like they had personally offended her (which they had). 

Hazel leaned against the doorframe, and was she wearing  _ another _ stolen hoodie? How many did Frank even have left? Her most recent addition to her collection was dark purple, with some faded lettering on the front. "I’ll text Frank. He volunteers at the animal shelter, so he’ll probably know what to do.”

"...Why?" A sense of foreboding had settled in his gut, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted his unsaid question to be answered or not.

"Because you're a cat now and we don't want you to get sick,” she said matter of factly, “do we have to take him to the vet?"

Nico didn’t let her get an answer to that. "Don't you dare," he said, inching away as Hazel stepped into his room and crouched down like a frog in front of his desk.“I will run away-  _ Hazel, I will bite you!” _ She grinned in response, and continued gently scratching behind his ears,

"Nico, don't hiss at your sister,” Persephone told him after setting his book back down. Hades had disappeared, presumably to get more sleep or to find a solution. Hopefully the latter.

Taking this as encouragement, he continued to half heartedly hiss at Hazel. "Hiss. Hiss. I am glaring at you right now. Can you feel  _ that _ ?" He puffed himself up, trying to look intimidating.

"You like it, don't you?" she realised, pausing for a moment. Her grin was beginning to surpass the size of a Cheshire Cat, and that was the real cause for concern.

"...Maybe,” he muttered defeatedly, letting Hazel continue to pet him. “I hate family reunions."

***

“That was  _ hilarious.” _

“Shut up!”

***

It was freezing on the roof, and Will regretted not bringing a jacket up with him. Or shoes - shoes would have been a good idea too. Instead, he was sitting cross legged on the cold tiles in the middle of the night, and Nico kept insulting his shirt.

The cat in question was across from him, sniffing a wooden box whose contents kept rattling. Behind that, there was a rather generic mixing bowl that could have come from Will’s own, highly disorganised, kitchen. If Nico wanted to bake with him, he picked an inconvenient place to do so. “But seriously, where did you even  _ get  _ that? It looks like-”

“Like the sun threw up on me, yeah.”  _ You’ve only mentioned it several thousand times.  _ “Why did you drag me up here to bake?”

Nico looked positively scandalised.  _ “Bake?” _

Looking between the bowl, the box of what was presumably ingredients and Nico’s outrageous expression, he started to think that maybe he was wrong. But there was even a  _ wooden spoon  _ there and what  _ else  _ would you want to use that for? “That’s not what the bowl’s for?”

“ _ No?”  _ Came Nico’s high pitched reply. “I wanted to show you something cool, not make - I don’t even know -  _ cupcakes.”  _

“I mean cupcakes are still very cool.”

“ _ Do you want to see cool magic or not?” _

“Your spells are literally just saying stuff in Latin. I mean ‘move cat, be cat’? That’s so  _ vague. _ ”

There was a pause, as Nico tried to process Latin actually being taught in some schools. “How the hell do you know that?”

“It was the only extracurricular on Mondays that didn’t involve sports. I had to pick one and I  _ suck  _ at sports.” A shiver ran down Will’s spine as he remembered trying out for track and getting a faceful of mud for his troubles. 

“So you chose Latin?”

“It didn’t require me having to run. And Mr Brunner was cool, he’d let us do whatever if we didn’t want to learn, as long as we didn’t break anything. I got a degree in that, for some reason.”  _ A degree that I haven’t really found a use for, but it was an easy one to get. _

Apparently this didn’t impress Nico, who thought that learning supposedly dead languages was a waste of time, even though his _ entire spellbook was probably written in them. _ “Still,  _ Latin?”  _ he asked incredulously.

Trying to prevent an endless cycle about the usefulness of Latin, he changed the subject.  _ “So,  _ what did you want to show me?” If it wasn't baking, and cake wasn’t involved in any shape or form, it had to be good. Damnit, now he was hungry. When he got off the roof he was going to make himself cupcakes, that was that. Sure he hadn’t really tried before, and most things kitchen related really wasn't his strong suit, but that was what the Internet was for, right?

The box was unceremoniously shoved towards him, with a silent invitation for Will to open it. The lid was wooden, the sort of thing that was plentiful in those souvenir shops along the coast. A picture of a beach was printed on the top, which could have come from anywhere if he thought about it. Inside, pots of all shapes and sizes were tightly packed in. He took one out and stared at the black berries. “This doesn’t look like cinnamon to me. You use cherries in your not-baking?”

Nico looked closely at the contents, clearly having no qualms about violating Will’s personal space as he did so. “Belladonna. If you eat them, you’ll die,” he explained morbidly.

He hastily slotted it back into place. “Not cherries then.”

“Anyway, I wanted to show you some cool stuff. I can’t do that if you do something stupid and die.” This got Will’s attention, and he looked at Nico curiously. The attention seemed to satisfy him, and he made a show of prancing up and down the red tiles before flicking his tail towards the sky . Bright colours exploded in the air, a silent fireworks display made to astound and captivate its audience. Golden rockets and green catherine wheels arched across the sky, other colours joining in a symphony of light. It was by far the best display he’d seen in a while, yet no one else seemed to notice. The news continued playing in the window of a house below, its occupants transfixed on the screen. Lights remained off, curtains didn’t open, and the odd person that walked by didn’t stop and stare.

“Cool show,” he said quietly, happy to sit and watch in awe for however long it took. He missed the smirk that Nico threw in his direction, one that meant he was exceptionally pleased with himself for whatever reason currently suited him.

Eventually the lights fizzled out and Will turned to face Nico again. “Do you want to-” Nico began, trying to think of other similarly flashy spells.

“Can I make a mega spell?” Any chance to reenact a Tumblr post and Will would take it. If the Ravenclaws weren’t going to merge several dead languages to create the ultimate incantation, then he’d have to do it himself. This wasn’t what Nico expected at all, but in all fairness, he really should have.

“Can you  _ what?”  _

“Well it’s all in Latin, right? Smush a few words together and ta da,” Will waved his hands in typical jazz hands fashion, “mega spell.”

“I’d almost be offended if you didn’t sound like you were going to blow something up,” Nico said, clearly intrigued, and a pad of sticky notes and a pen appeared in Will’s hands. “Please, go ahead.” That was all it took for him to begin scribbling away, occasionally pausing to think. Five sticky notes were filled with his cramped handwriting before the bundle was enthusiastically slapped in front of Nico one by one. He raised an eyebrow at Will as he capped the pen. “Shove some stuff in the bowl too. More complex spells require random shit mixed with more random shit so…” Will nodded, and began to poke around the bottles of various ingredients, occasionally pulling out one to look at it in more detail.

“So I can just use anything?”

Nico nodded. “There are no rules to this - it’s basically just one big science experiment and when something works well or crashes and burns we add it to the official book and  _ strongly advise _ other people not to do it.”  _ The Official American Spellbook  _ had a never ending rules page because according to some people,  _ spells ending in unplanned explosions are a bad thing. _

“What do I do now?” Will asked, the bowl in his hands smelling faintly of cupcake batter and peppermint. Nico thought for a moment, then nudged the spoon towards him.

“Eat it. May as well.” Will raised his eyebrows before shrugging and shoving the spoon into his mouth. It tasted like s’mores, avocado and prawns, which is a combination of foods that really shouldn’t be combined in any circumstances but go strangely well together. And he seemed to still be alive, so that was good. Nico had begun reading from the sticky notes like someone who’d been called upon to read aloud in class and desperately didn’t want to. But at least his Latin degree was being used for its true purpose.

It started with the explosions.

They came from nowhere in particular, and didn’t seem to be damaging anything, but it sounded like someone had let off hundreds of fire crackers in a row. Will instinctively slammed his hands over his ears, and Nico shot into his lap as he was spooked by the noise. The apple trees in next door’s garden turned a rather stunning shade of purple. That would be an interesting surprise for when they woke up in the morning. As the sound of the explosions died down, they could hear the latest news story on the television.

“And now, strange reports have come in about houses growing chicken legs. The new appendages appear to be relatively harmless, although no one has been able to work out why they appeared. Here’s Malcolm down in the South to tell us more…”

“Well,” Nico began, not moving from his spot on Will, “that was a success.”

_ [PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME, THE AUTHOR DOES NOT WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PROPERTY DAMAGE.] _

***

Yawning, Will shuffled into his kitchen, hungry for a PB+J sandwich. Some people argued that it wasn’t a breakfast food, but in his opinion breakfast foods were simply an illusion. If he wanted a sandwich full of sugar, he was going to eat a sandwich full of sugar. Any and all health textbooks, magazines, and weird food ads could die in the name of his masterpiece. But of course, like all good things, the universe would not let it last. The bread and butter were already laid out, and he opened a cupboard to retrieve the peanut butter. He thought he’d put it back here last time but…

There was a boy. Sitting on top of his cupboards like a cat. And they were now engaged in a very intense and spontaneous staring match.

His dark eyes were staring at him like gaping like a goldfish wasn’t an acceptable reaction to finding random strangers on the top of your cupboards. Which, for the record, it totally was. His style was something he’d peg as emo at first glance, with an old t-shirt with Green Day on the front that seemed just a little too big on him. For some reason he hadn’t moved an inch, although  _ surely  _ his position had to be uncomfortable. He’d had to contrast himself so his stance resembled a cat, legs tucked underneath himself and arms resting on the inch of space left on the wooden surface. His black skinny jeans had gaping holes at the knees, and with the amount of frayed ends, Will wasn’t sure whether they were intentional or not. His hair was falling into his face, and he tried to resist the urge to tuck it behind his ears or attack it with a comb because he had the  _ worst _ case of bedhead that looked to be on another plane of existence. Basically, he was really,  _ really  _ cute.

And-  _ dammit,  _ there was somehow _ dirt  _ there too. Really visible dirt. He actually had to clean that up now. “Hey Will,” he said flippantly, as if it was totally normal to be hanging out on the top of his cupboards.

“Nico, what the  _ fuck?” _

**Author's Note:**

> This was a frantic race to finish, I’ll give you that. But no regrets, and I hope you enjoyed reading this. The art can be found [here](https://lukewasright.tumblr.com/post/622647406456111104/image-id-will-is-sitting-at-a-cafe-table-katie), [here](https://lukewasright.tumblr.com/post/622647412349190144/hello-i-made-this-lil-audio-snippet-for) and here! Make sure to check out the other wonderful fics for this years bang!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [houser-of-stories](https://www.houser-of-stories.tumblr.com)


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